


A Memory of the Slivered Moon

by Ghostline



Series: Ghost of a Memory [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods, Cat!Nekoma, Cat!Nekomata, Cat!Yaku, God!Hinata, M/M, Owl!Akaashi, Owl!Bokuto, Queerplatonic Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma, Reincarnation, Sea God Kageyama, SnowLeopard!Lev, Sun God Hinata, True Names, Unrequited Love, asexual Kenma, cat!kenma, eternal recurrence, god!kageyama, god!nearly-everyone, mochi monster Kenma, rip-in-peace!lev
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5420228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostline/pseuds/Ghostline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There is a legend, nearly forgotten, that the gods of the Sun and the Sea fell so deeply for each other that they gave up their divinity, diving into the seas of time to be reborn again and again, forever continuing a love transcending life and death.</i>
</p><p><i>But legend doesn't speak of the one who followed them, quiet and mortal, or the way his golden eyes gleamed as he chased the sun...</i><br/> </p><p>This is a story of reincarnation, infatuation, and love eternally unrequited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Morning Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer mornings with Shouyou are like waking with the sun in your arms...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music suggestion:  
> Inside the Tam House - Firefly Soundtrack  
> [listenonrepeat](https://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch?v=f4mQ9-J02dI)  
> [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4mQ9-J02dI)

I am not a morning person. Well, not in the usual sense. It’s true I’m awake when the sky starts to brighten, but when the sun peeks over the horizon, that’s usually the sign that I should close my PSP and doze late into the afternoon. But summer mornings are different. Not every summer morning, naturally, and not even every summer. Summer mornings with Hinata Shouyou, however, are special.

During school days, Shouyou rises with the sun, but when he’s content, when it’s a weekend, or the summer (especially the summer nights we stay up far too late), come the morning he’s lost in a deep and dreamless sleep. And so, when golden rays of dawn peek into my room, I gently close my PSP, untangle my limbs from Shouyou’s, and reach beneath the mattress for my sketchbook.

I wait, poised and patient, for the sun to kiss Shouyou’s cheek and set his form ablaze. 

Ah, here it is: the perfect moment, when you can nearly see sunlight shining through Shouyou’s skin, his entire being, radiant, a second sun peeking out from beneath the covers. My sketch won’t capture that light...it never does...but between my fingers, my pencil dances across the surface of the paper, catching the curve of his cheek, sliding down his slender neck, circling the delicate form of his ear, tracing down his eyelashes, across his barely parted lips... 

Kuro always teases me about my lack of interest in things, how quick I am to get bored and tug his sleeve, asking to go home. For me to show real interest in something, especially if it’s not a game, is an anomaly. Infatuation is another thing altogether, completely off the scale for me, so it's no surprise Kuro never seems to get tired of prodding me about Shouyou. 

But Kuro is wrong. This isn’t infatuation. Infatuation is hormone-driven, like the puppy (or kitten?) love of teenagers, ephemeral and short-lived. That isn’t what I feel, toward Shouyou. Though perhaps that is how it started, long ago, when I first laid eyes on him (bare and laughing as birds alighted on his shoulders and arms, the grass green and vibrant around us, this pocket of spring in the midst of winter). But if infatuation was the seed from where we started, it has grown so much more, over the years, over our lifetimes. 

Shouyou is more dear to me than anyone, or anything. It doesn’t particularly bother me that he doesn’t know this. There’s no way he could know, really, and I am more than used to concealing the depth of my feelings behind a mellow smile. It’s not his fault he can’t reciprocate, or remember. I’ve made my peace with that long ago.

I know my place in Shouyou’s life. I know how the pieces fall, how they fit together. 

That’s not to say that I don’t get greedy, sometimes, or that I don’t pounce on opportunities when I find them. This time around, I found Shouyou first, when we were both young. This time, we grew up together, our closeness blossoming much more naturally as childhood friends than how it usually manifests, sudden and curiously intense, when we instead meet as teenagers or young men.  

For seven years now I’ve grown up with Shouyou, attending the same school, playing tag with him at recess, telling ghost stories when sleeping over at each others houses, catching fireflies in the summer, setting to him on the volleyball court, and, most recently, cuddling up against each other at night, shy, curious, and trusting, warm in each other’s arms until sleep claims us both.

To be this close, feeling his trust and affection as he snuggles against my chest... it's beyond imagining, everything I’ve always longed for: to chase the sun, and finally catch him...

But all things are ephemeral. I know this more than any other. What I have now with Shouyou is wondrous and warm, but it is merely a sunbeam in my hand. In time, it will fade.

Shouyou's light, his heart, is not mine to hold. It never was. 

I know my place. I know how the pieces fall, how they fit together. I know the piece that connects to Shouyou’s in that deeper, more intimate way, and it is not mine.

But _he_ hasn’t come into the picture yet. Curiously late, this time around. And so I keep hoping, against all odds, against fate itself: maybe this life will be different. Maybe this time around it can be me, in Shouyou's heart.

I set my pencil down at last. On the page, Shouyou sleeps peacefully in graphite, as lifelike as I can render him, after sketching his face and form for an untold number of years. 

It’s something I wonder about, if anyone’s ever found my past notebooks, if anyone’s collected them, deep in some museum or archive. Has anyone made the realization that impossibly, from so many different cultures, so many different countries, the same hands have been sketching this exact same boy for centuries on end? Can they see the progression, the compounded skill, each curve and line throughout the years more steady, agile, and loving than the last? 

Can they see what I feel, when I behold Shouyou? 

And what would Shouyou himself see within my drawings? I can already hear his awed crow squawks, the same ones he makes when stepping into a new gym, fists clenched tight, stars in his eyes.

But after that initial awe...would he see into the depths beneath the drawing? Would he be silent, and then turn toward me, wide-eyed, as if seeing me for the very first time?

How would he react, finally understanding that what I feel for him goes far beyond friendship, deeper than the platonic skinship we share?

I’d scare him away. Like a startled crow he’d fly from me. It’s happened before, though in far worse circumstances. I don’t dare risk repeating that mistake, of disturbing the intimacy we’ve grown between us. What we have now, is enough. 

I flip the sketchbook shut, slide it back to its home beneath the mattress and the box spring, safe from prying eyes.

Shouyou fidgets in his sleep, murmuring my name as his arms reach for my missing warmth. As I slide back beneath the comforter he clings to me, arms pulling me in close, his head tucked just beneath my chin. I can feel him sigh into my chest, content. 

The way he says my name...I never tire of it, whether it’s in excited greeting, or in curious tones as he tries it out for the very first time (again), or sighed against me in secret. As if I am an instrument in his hands, my name from his lips is the chord that vibrates through my entire being, sweet and enduring, the echo of all I am.

Warm in Shouyou’s arms, I too drift back into the currents of dream and memory, hearing the voice that named me, so very long ago, beneath the slivered moon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my [go-to piece](http://viria.tumblr.com/post/114945356363/kenhinas-spending-summers-together-is-my-kind-of) for the Kenhina feels in this chapter, courtesy of Viria


	2. Polishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream...a memory. 
> 
> Winter, melting into spring. 
> 
> The searing eyes of the Sun. 
> 
> Loss, melting into love. 
> 
> A name...gifted...cherished.
> 
> Pancakes on a perfect summer morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music suggestion:  
> Winter - Twinkle Twinkle Little Rockstar (Lullaby Versions of Tori Amos)  
> [iTunes](https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/winter/id910840355?i=910840389) (couldn't find this anywhere on youtube)
> 
> Alternately:
> 
> Winter Silence (piano instrumental)  
> [listenonrepeat](https://www.listenonrepeat.com/watch?v=MdsEtKfdMBI)  
> [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MdsEtKfdMBI)

Memory and dream work a little differently for me than for others. I didn’t get that for a long time, the concept that people could so easily forget things, or the idea that when others slept, they experienced random, nonsensical hallucinations instead of crystal clear reruns of the past. But then, my first few lives after following Shouyou were filled with enough chaos and confusion simply adapting to a human form and life. Not that I had much experience otherwise.

My dream in these morning hours, wrapped in Shouyou’s arms, started at that beginning, the furthest reaches of my memory. Perhaps I lived lives before this memory, I’m not entirely sure, though superstition suggests up to nine. For me, though, this was my beginning, and it was bittersweet.

For in the beginning, or near enough, there was Shouyou. But before that, there was pain. Absence. Cold. A quickening of a young mind as it realized its mother wasn’t coming back, that the world of warmth and milk and licks and gentle purring was gone. 

It was my first winter. I was old enough to follow my mother out of our small den for a little while each day, to marvel at this cold white that covered our forest and leap at the falling flakes that tickled my nose and lashes. I fell over each time, of course, but that’s what kittenhood is for: learning to leap and fall, stalk and pounce (and bang your head jumping headfirst into a tree branch). Figuring out how to survive as a game, before such things really matter. And I loved these games, almost as much as I loved mother, and her endless patience and playfulness as she play-fought me in the snow.

That haze of kittenhood ended that winter, giving way to sudden shivery-cold nights and the growly-stomach realization that mother had been gone far too long. Maybe she lost her way back after hunting. Maybe she was hurt, and needed my help. Wide-eyed and scared, I stepped into the snowy night, sniffing for her scent.

The feline nose is a wonderful thing, able to sense so much from so little, to trace and track and guide unerringly toward prey, toward family, toward home. I tend to blame the terribly stunted human nose for my generally awful sense of direction and tendency to get lost, but back then, even as a cub, my nose led me true.

There was no warmth left within her body when I found her, still and silent. The ivory of fallen snow had covered most of the red upon her coat, but the crimson stain from her chest still spilled out onto the forest floor, soaking the purity of the snow instead of being concealed beneath it.

Mother had told me about death more than once. She told me it was what we brought upon the hares we caught, so that we might eat and survive. That was easy enough to understand while chewing into the fresh meat, but the careful way she had spoken indicated that there was something more, something else to know at some later time, when I was older.

Here, before my wide, unblinking eyes was that hidden lesson, so simple, so obvious: death could come for us, as well. We too, could be hunted. A bone spear was lodged deep in her chest, and strange, smokey smells still lingered from the tracks nearby.

I turned away. I couldn’t bear to look at her any longer, at what they had done, at what they had taken from her body. Had I been passive then, and given in towards that despair, I might have died in that forest, huddled up against her in memory of a warmth and love that would never return. 

But this was still a night of firsts for me, and rage has a particular way of infusing fire in your blood, and silencing the rumble of an empty stomach.

The smoky scent near the boot tracks wasn’t completely unfamiliar. We could sometimes catch it upon the currents when the winds shifted. Mother had warned me about man, too: to run for safety if I ever caught their scent in the forest, and wait for them to pass. 

I ran, that night, through the stillness of the woods, the snow pale and nearly glowing in the dim light of the false dawn. I ran toward the smoke in the east. I ran, not knowing the shape of the monster that had taken my mother, but knowing for certain that it must have a neck and a throat, and that would be enough for me to end it.

The woods seemed to continue on forever. Time stretched on, and yet I could not outrun the forest, or my fatigue. I could feel the strength of my anger giving out far too soon. I was tripping over roots, now, scratching myself as I carelessly dove through the bushes and fallen tree branches. I was nearly limping, and my stomach felt as cold as the snow around me. Was this as far as I could go? All this rage, betrayed by a weak, frail body?

An unfamiliar sound to my right stopped my uneven gait. No birdcall, was this...no creature I’d ever heard before. But it was a kind of music...that I could feel down to my bones. Maybe this was the prey I was hunting. The smokey scent was faint, but perhaps the wind had merely shifted, hiding them from me, until they called and gave themselves away. Crouching down, remembering the lessons of my mother, I padded forward, silent as death, into the undergrowth.

It took some moments for the warmth to register under the numb pads of my feet. Warm, dry earth beneath. Snow: gone. And what was this...green grass? Flowers? Here? I found myself emerging into a spring meadow. The sun, unhindered by the forest canopy, shown down pleasant and comfortable. I could hear the rustling of small animals through the grass, birdsong, and again, that strange musical sound. I took another step, senses strung out and tense, not knowing what to make of this, still searching for sign of my prey.

And then I saw him.

In the middle of the meadow sat a strange creature, bare of skin, except the strange orange tuft of fur upon its head, intertwined with and contrasting against morning glories of the most brilliant blue. Birds perched upon his shoulders, taking off only to alight somewhere else along his being, on his strange outstretched arms, and he laughed in delight (for surely laughter was the only thing this could be, musical, and my heart lifted with its ring).

The remaining fight within in me gave way. There was nothing to fear in this place, no danger...just this breathtaking, wondrous being who woke the spring in the middle of winter and smelled of sunlight itself.

I was at his side before I knew it, sitting very still and gazing up at him, puzzled by my own reactions and the affectionate purr I felt resonating within my throat. 

And then he saw me. Our eyes met. Amber...gold...the colors of sunrise, of sunset, of flame and fire and sunbeams. _.._ I knew Him.

Say what you will about the unmatched intelligence of man, of humanity’s great wisdom. People trip over that intelligence, over their preconceptions, and often miss what’s directly in front of them. I’ve seen it happen over and over. 

But _my_ kind, those of the Wild, know a God when they see one.

The living spirit of the Sun itself stared down upon me, and beneath His gaze I suddenly felt very very small. Like a titan He seemed to tower above me, impossibly vast and looming against the sky, radiant. The pressure of His presence gripped me so tight I could scarcely breathe. It was as if He burned a hole in reality itself, and all that was paled in comparison.

He was more real than anything I’ve ever known, more than this meadow or the trees around us, and though the sun was caught in His hair, His eyes shown with far more radiance: gold, molten and shifting, piercing through the thin mesh of my being, pinning me shock-still into the earth like the sharpest of claws.

I wondered if I’d just been struck dead, like my mother, just waiting for my mind to catch up and notice.

And then His face broke. Anguish and compassion flowed over His features. I blinked, and the illusion shattered.

He was no titan, no longer a giant looking down from the endless reaches of the sky, but merely a child sitting in a meadow, small and new, like me.

In his eyes I only saw sorrow and a gentle, inviting warmth that called to the very depths of my being. He reached down for me at the same time I leapt up, and I was in his arms, held close and tight against him as he wept, and I knew that he wept for my slain mother...for me. The ice and fury in my heart melted into staggering loss as I realized in full what I could not hours before, frozen in my shock. I cried out for my lost mother, for the warmth and shelter and love taken from me. I cried out as a tiny creature in a vast, cruel world: frightened, overcome, and overwhelmed.

Warm arms cradled me and his sobs echoed mine until my tears finally gave out, and in the embrace of a gentle sun, I slept.

 

* * *

 

The days following passed as a blur. Shouyou (for that is the name he claimed for himself) was always at my side, holding me, petting me, watching over me (though I did have to leave his meadow of spring to hunt; I did not dare slay the other small creatures that gathered near him in awe). He helped me bury what was left of my mother, cradling me as I quivered and shook throughout the night. 

As I regained my health and spirit, we continued to spend each day with each other, bonding, exploring, playing. Shouyou even took on a form like mine from time to time (coat a handsome reddish-gold with a brilliant flame-like tuft at his tail), and in the endless spring of his presence we chased each other, two young cubs darting like sunlight through the mists and the meadows, the thickets and slanted sunbeams: leaping, hiding and seeking, climbing, and falling asleep exhausted in each other’s arms as evening drew the sky toward indigo.

I had not been born as part of a litter, but in those clear spring days and gentle nights, Shouyou was closer than a brother. He was my entire world.

“Kenma...” On this lazy afternoon, the word drifted from his lips, foreign, as I bathed him up the side of his neck from my perch on his shoulder. Pausing, I tilted my head slightly, unsure what this meant. He turned to grin back at me. “That should be your name...it means ‘polishing’. That’s what it feels like, the scraping of your tongue.” 

I had been bathing him rather often (he tasted of warm sunbeams, how could I not?), though I was surprised he noticed. 

“Ken...ma?” I tested the word, loving the feel of it on my tongue. Shouyou had given me shelter, compassion, healing, and friendship. Without him I would have died in that forest, or at the end of some hunter’s spear. This young god had _wept_ for me, taken me wholly into his heart without reservation or condition...and now, on this most perfect of days, he gifted me a name:

Kenma. My name was Kenma. 

 

* * *

 

“Hey...hey! Kenma!” Something is shaking me at my shoulders, pulling me forward to the present.

“Mmmph...Shouyou?” 

He peers down upon me with amber eyes, brow creased with concern, and for the ghost of a moment I swear there are morning glories in his hair. I nearly reach out to twine my fingers through his orange locks, but recover from my daze before I betray myself.

“Were you having a bad dream?” His fists are clenched and he looks so determined, as if he’s taken on the duty to keep my every nightmare at bay.

“What? Why would-“ But then I feel the moisture on my cheeks, near my eyes. Not something I can brush away so easily. I reach for a vague truth.

“Uh...yeah...kind of. It got better near the end, though.”

Rather than reassuring him, my words only cause him to deflate.

“So I woke you from a good dream? You were kind of making those cat noises in your sleep again so I wasn’t sure! Gwahhh I’m the absolute wor-“ 

His body goes abruptly taut, wide and attentive eyes fixed upon the bedroom door. He looks like a dog who just spotted a squirrel, and I have to hold in my laughter, still curious what he's sensing. His nose twitches once...twice...and then...

“Pancakes,” he reports solemnly. I swear his voice just dropped an octave. He turns back to me with those wide, serious eyes, fists still clenched. “Your mom’s making pancakes, Kenma!”

And then he’s up and tugging on his pajama bottoms, whooping with excitement, all previous concerns swept away by the promise of syrupy goodness.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. No matter how the earth spins, or how times or cultures change, Shouyou always remains himself: pure, true sunlight in human form. The light I can't help but follow.

I pad after him down the hall, smiling as he skips through the light from the windows. It’s a warm morning, as expected for mid-summer, but as Shouyou’s hand reaches back to grip mine, tugging me onward, all I feel is the spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been going by the name translations on the Haikyuu!! wiki:
> 
> Kenma ~ polishing  
> Kozume ~ lone claw


	3. Flying Heaven, Iron Cheer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pancakes and laughter and syrup fights
> 
> Renewal after being cut down
> 
> The eternal promise of an ever-rising sun.
> 
>  
> 
> Trickery and trees and travel
> 
> Darting about throughout the shifting streams of time
> 
> Childhood friends and cheat codes and chilled desserts
> 
>  
> 
> The hauntingly familiar crashing of distant waves...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mythology here is partly drawn from that of Nagi no Asukara. While that will be touched on here and there, it will be more thoroughly explored in A Memory of Ocean Waves.

Pancakes with Shouyou are as messy as they are sweet.

He hasn’t caught on just yet, but whenever Shouyou starts musing about making breakfast for us (not unusual in summertime), it suddenly becomes top priority to get him pancakes as soon as possible, in this case, via a suggestion to my mother the night before. Not only are they delicious, they’re also a fantastic distraction. For some reason, any thoughts of cooking fly straight out of Shouyou’s mind once he’s in the grip of their syrupy goodness, and the effect seems to last at least a few weeks.

I’ve tested this across several lifetimes now, and it’s uncanny.

It’s also been a lifesaver.

Shouyou is a god-awful cook. Or, I guess, an awful god-cook. No matter the recipe, no matter how many timers, or how much instruction, or time spent shadowing and taking notes...no matter the dish, Shouyou will burn it.

Perhaps that’s not surprising. That’s what suns do...they shine...and they burn. At least he’s consistent.

Somehow he has never reached the point where a kitchen or house has burned down. But as I prefer not to deal with water damage and visits from the fire department, keeping Shouyou away from the kitchen has become a recurring mini game I take quite seriously.

“Kenmaaaaa...”

I lift my head. Mrs. Butterworth is leveled directly at my face, held by a grinning Hinata Shouyou.

“Shouyou? No...you wouldn’t...don’t! Ah!”

And the air is filled with streams of syrup, return fire of arcing gobs of blueberry jam, and retaliatory flying bits of butter, punctuated by Shouyou’s infectious laughter (which I can’t help but join).

And of course we’ll pay for that, we both know what’s coming: humbled apology and an hour or so of cleanup (and trying to remove the sugary stickiness from our hair)...but somehow, someway, Shouyou always seems to know exactly what I need.

Today, I needed the spring. I needed to feel like a child again. I needed to laugh and make a mess and feel what I felt so long ago, when we chased each other through the forests back when the world was still new. Back when I was new.

Shouyou is so blessed, in what he has, including that forgetfulness. Especially that. Each lifetime, starting again from a blank slate. He doesn’t have to spend his days distracting himself from what’s come before. He doesn’t carry memories of loss, of pain, of war, nor does he have to bury himself in books and video games to drown out the ghosts of trauma long past. Where I tend to shrink away from others, pull away and isolate, Shouyou embraces, unscathed by the knives of human nature. I sometimes wonder if he would still be so open and kind if he could remember what we have seen...what’s been done to those we love...what we have witnessed happen to each other, time and again. I wonder if he would still be so fascinated with humanity, or if he would recoil and retreat, back to his other-self blazing in the sky.

I never want to know the answer to those questions. His innocence...his kindness...his warmth...that’s often enough to keep him going throughout a single lifetime, no matter how hard. It’s best that he leaves behind all of those nightmare memories, and stay here, among us...with me. I need him. I need that renewal he brings. With Shouyou, my heart finds the desire to thaw, and heal, and sometimes I can find my way back to childhood again....back to some semblance of innocence.

That’s not to say that every lifetime is horrific...only that horrors have a way of looming in the mind, and I’m more familiar with their haunting than I’d like. It makes it so hard to trust, sometimes...and despite how much I want to be able to just turn invisible and escape everyone’s notice...I’m concerned with how everyone sees me. I know intimately what it’s like, when you’re looked down upon with contempt, as something to harm. Sometimes it’s better to live like a ghost, on the edges of everyone’s attention, just an indistinct face, vaguely familiar enough to pass by and vanish from memory. Better, especially after a bad end...but it is lonely.

It’s a way to survive. But not a way to live. It took me a long time to understand that. I can’t say I’ve escaped the past. I can’t say I’ve healed, or that I ever will. Not completely. But being with Shouyou again makes it easier to try and move on and reach out.

I’ve often thought of my memory as a curse. In many ways, I still think it is. But when I think about what it would mean, forgetting Shouyou, forgetting the many forms of our friendships (the slightly confused delight in his eyes as a slumbering piece of him reaches for my companionship, knowing that this is a dearly awaited reunion, not a first-time meeting) or the way his hand grips mine in the face of danger (steadfast, despite the trembling)...I can’t sincerely say I’d wish to join Shouyou in his ignorance.

Maybe that’s something he foresaw, that night long ago upon the sea cliffs. Maybe that’s why he allowed me to remember, so I would have hope, so that I would know I would never be alone.

As sure as the sun will rise, even in the darkest of lifetimes I know I will find Shouyou again. Even when death is upon once more, I know that Shouyou is out there, waiting, somewhere in the world, or in the world-behind-the-world, preparing to rise, and be born anew...

 

 

“You’re awfully quiet today, Kitten. What’s up?”

I blink. I’m in Kuro’s car, spacing as I watch the scenery speed by.

It’s been hours since the syrup fight, hours since we cleaned everything up, got cleaned up ourselves, and parted ways for the day. Shouyou is playing volleyball in the park now, surely, along with more of his companions he’s found again this lifetime (the spirits of Steadfast Earth and Gentle Zephyr are both there, as usual, as is that gentle giant of the Eastern Mountains, and his smaller companion of the Western Storms).

As for me...well...apparently I had said yes to Kuro’s invitation weeks ago. Or so he tells me. I can’t recall him asking, or what this invitation was actually for. My guess is he must have asked while I was deep in the latest MonHun game. Kuro sometimes doesn’t play fair, taking advantage of my weaknesses like that, making me promise things while I’m distracted. I’m used to it, but it’s particularly annoying this time.

These are _my_ days with Shouyou. Summer won’t last forever. What I have now with Shouyou...that too cannot last. It never does. I have to savor it as long as I can.

As for Kuro...Kuro is my childhood friend, in many ways, and across many lifetimes. And though I didn’t truly meet him until my second life, he is very much a piece of my childhood, more than he’ll ever know. Kuro is the Sora to my Roxxas, outgoing and confident and full of energy. Though most of the time, especially right now, he seems like much more of an Axel. Kuro has always been there for me, throughout the most terrible tragedies or hardships, and throughout every joyful moment as well. While it took me a long time to drop my guard around him, and accept his friendship, Kuro is nearly as dear to me as Shouyou.

Though of course I’ll never tell him that.

I blink again. Too much spacing out.

_Huh._

I finally notice it’s been far too long since I’ve seen any villages, or even houses...pines and forests have overtaken the view.

“Kuro, where are we? Where did you say we were going? Remember, we need to be back before dark, I’m meeting up with Shouyou for the festival tonight.”

“It’s a surprise. We should be back before evening. And, ah...I didn’t, actually. Say where we’re going.” There’s more guilt in his voice than this confession warrants.

Odd. There’s something I’m missing here.

I watch him through narrowed eyes, attuning to him.

And there it is. His gaze briefly darting to mine, then away far too quickly. It’s the look a liar or conman makes when they’re checking to see if their mark believes them. But what on earth would Kuro be lying abou-

Oh. Oh, of course.

“You didn’t actually invite me, did you.” It’s not a question. “You made that up, about asking me, about me saying yes.”

Kuro lets out a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Guess I’ve been found out. Sorry... I know you hate it when I do this sort of thing, but humor me? Just this once? It’s important to me.”

I’m still glaring at him. I don’t plan on letting him out of this so easily. Especially once we pass a sign announcing hiking trail parking several miles ahead.

_...he wouldn't DARE..._

“You’re taking me hiking, aren’t you.”

My words are cold, and I watch Kuro pale visibly as he realizes the jig is up.

“Uhh....yes. Yes I am.”

“You know I _hate_ hiking, Kuro.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“And you know the kinds of things I am capable of doing to you if you force me to hike. You remember the last time.”

Kuro gulps. “I remember.”

“Yet you’re doing this anyway.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“And what makes you think that’s a good idea?” I keep my tone sweet, knowing that will unnerve him.

“Kitten...Kenma...please. This is important to me. You’ll know why soon enough, just please, go along with it, for now.”

_Huh._

His attitude and plea are unusually sincere, right now. Whatever this is about, it doesn’t involve teasing, or his usual goofy antics. This is something he’s thought about, weighed the pros and (obvious and dangerous) cons, and resolved himself.

Still, he KNOWS I hate hiking. I don’t have to make it easy for him.

“I’ll walk a little. But when I say we go back, we go back. I’ve already seen enough trees just driving through them. I don’t need to see them close up.”

He nods meekly. Which raises the hairs on the back of my neck a little. That’s not like him, to give in without some pushback. Still, I’ll take even the easy victories, when they present themselves.

I make a noise of displeasure in my throat, and open up my 3DS, distracting myself with turn based combat.

I’ve long lost count about how many Fire Emblem games there are, or that I’ve played. Same goes with most of the RPGs and BL dating sims (my guilty pleasure...Kuro doesn’t need to know). Complicating the matter is that things tend to shift, lifetime to lifetime. A game I’ve played in a previous life may be completely different in the next one, or may not have been made yet, or perhaps the series itself doesn’t even exist this time around.

It’s not just video games. Historical things, too. Cultural things. Things about Hinata and Kageyama, or at least legends connected to their divinity.

In some lifetimes, Higami-sama and Umigami-sama are venerated, the high gods of Japan, and it is known undisputedly that mankind came from the sea, lived beneath the waves, able to breathe and live due to the Ena upon their skin gifted by their sea god.

Sometimes there are still undersea villages, the gift of Ena having never faded completely from human genetics.

In other lifetimes, it’s Amaterasu and Sasanoo, or Ryujin, more complicated mythologies, but essentially the same, beneath.

But often, man’s origins in the sea are myth, sometimes even less. Sometimes such things are forgotten completely, or perhaps they never even happened: the word “Ena” is unknown, and man has always been a creature of the land.

The same goes for other countries, civilizations, wars, famous people...though we are bound to a cycle of rebirth, it isn’t always the same world we are born into. Or the same time.

Like minnows in a stream we’ve darted about through time, moving mostly forward, but not always, and not uniformly.

This place and period of time, “modern” Japan, has been rather unusual, a whirl in the current. I’ve been reborn in this era many times now. Which is fine by me...while it’s a crowded place and time, it’s usually peaceful and orderly, the food is good, and the games I find to distract me are always fun.

But it does present a conundrum.

Curiosity finally drove me to do some google searching for myself. Where I expected to find dozens of Kozume Kenmas, all with the same face yet varying dates of birth and separate lives, I find only myself. Just one. The same goes for Shouyou, and Kuro, and the rest. Our past lives get fuzzed out of history, somehow.

Yet some of our contributions remain. Not all evidence of our lives is lost.

I’ve seen pictures of the remains of Kuro’s frescos, uncovered in the ruins of a city buried by volcanic ash: I remember posing for some of his figures (another promise he forced me into while I was distracted reading). Though I hadn’t yet found Shouyou, that was a wonderful and quiet lifetime, by the seaside, beneath the olive trees.

At least until the eruption. There are castings of us, Kuro holding me close, trying to shelter me, at the end. It’s a very strange thing, seeing our huddled forms caught in plaster in a museum. Being so close you can almost reach out and touch a fragment of your own past life and death. Kuro was there too, a classmate on the same school trip. Of course, he didn’t react or understand my fascination, despite how important this was to us both. Such a strange thing...

In another lifetime, I’ve walked into a gallery and been shocked to see Shouyou’s sunflower oil paintings, recently found, artist unattributed. Many of those sunflowers he painted just for me, to try to make me smile again. That was after a particularly bad end, and a subsequent rough start to another lifetime. I’d wake up in the night sobbing incoherently, and Shouyou, with his endless warmth, would just hold me close against him until I could find sleep again.

Every so often I can obtain or find one of those paintings, usually one of the small ones from when Shouyou was just starting to paint seriously. I try to keep my eye out for it or any of the others whenever I can, snagging them from auctions or garage sales from unsuspecting owners, and hang it on my bedroom wall.

Whenever Shouyou sees it, he just stares, making those awed crow sounds of his, stars in his eyes. When he asks me if I know who painted it, I just shrug, smile, and silently thank him for being the sunlight in my life.

On the radio, I’ve been surprised to hear cello pieces I composed long ago...haunted and keening strains of music from the depths of me I normally don’t allow others to see, all channeling my longing for Shouyou across boundless time. I broke my PSP that day, dropping it from the shock of unexpected familiarity.

I found out later the pieces had been rediscovered and praised by fascinated musical historians, eventually being played by noted cellists throughout the world. In some lifetimes when I can afford a cello, I find I can still play those pieces from memory, fingers finding each note as true as when I first wrought them from the core of my being.

I’ve even found fragments of BL manga I once drew reemerge on file sharing sites, artist unknown. That, from a time when I discovered Shouyou and Kageyama’s relationship hijinks fit perfectly with the kind of drama and comedy fans were craving. The two of them can be the dumbest, most oblivious, frosted-sugar-coated idiots in love I have ever seen. Ever.

I wove snippets and pieces of several of their past relationships into some semi-coherent story. They completely sold out on each of those runs. And while that was amusing for a time, it soon became clear that writing about my unrequited love’s ridiculous love life (lives?) wasn’t going to be an uplifting thing for me, in the long run. Yet lifetimes later, the ghost of those manga still haunt the interwebs, some with cult followings, full of rumors and seekers for the long-lost mystery artist.

I’ve long turned my back on my past work here. Those cults will remain forever unsatisfied and disappointed.

And speaking of being disappointed...

“We’re here!” Kuro announces proudly.

We drive past various signs...something about forests and seaside cliff trails. Kuro parks, and goes to retrieve something from the ice chest in the back seat.

I get out of the car, but only to stretch my legs. I have no intention of cooperating. I sit down on a bench near where the trail begins. I fully plan on being an anchor weighing him down with every step.

It’s only fair, after he tricked me.

Kuro begins making his way down the trail, turning back once he realizes I’m not following.

“Come on, Kenma!”

“...Don’t wanna.” I put on my best petulant pout.

Rather than being discouraged or irritated, he flashes a cheshire cat grin, and my Kuro alarm goes off. He’s about to pull something.

There’s a bag in his hands, something from the ice chest, and he’s reaching to take something out. Something small, and pink and...

_No._

My eyes are saucers, locked onto what Kuro holds before me.

“I suppose you can stay here. I’ll just have to eat allll of these by myself I guess...”

My mind goes blank, and in the span of a blink, I find I’m no longer sitting on the bench, but standing in front of Kuro with something deliciously cold and strawberry in my mouth. Along with Kuro’s fingers.

I tug on the mochi with my tongue...once...twice...and my eyes flash to Kuro’s when he doesn’t let go.

“Does this mean you’re coming with me?” His smug grin is  _infuriating_.

I glare at him for a moment longer (after one more useless tug) before offering a grudging “mmmhmm.”

He releases the mochi. It’s spongy and cold and creamy with just the right combination of sweet and tart: the perfect treat for summer. Gods bless whoever invented mochi. Surely such a saint should ever be reincarnated to grace the world with more such desserts.

When I’m finished savoring and open my eyes, Kuro has already started along the path without me, tantalizingly waving the bag behind him.

I’m at his side in a flash, hands waving with overexcitement, and _maybe_ I’m pawing at his sleeve and just _perhaps_ there are some noises coming from my mouth and throat that should never be heard by _anyone_ , let alone Kuro. But he’s already transferred the bag to his other hand out of reach, and ever so casually popped a mochi into his mouth.

He chews slowly, and after a few more moments of ignoring my futile struggles, he looks down at me, as if noticing me for the first time. “Oya oya? Did you by chance want another?” I can’t help but sulk and cling uselessly on his arm, knowing that small wonderful bag of deliciousness is just out of reach, and that Kuro’s arms are far too long and quick even if I tried to lunge.

I _know_ what he wants: kitten-eyed begging, sleeve tugging, hopeful whines...all the stuff he deems “adorable”...but I don’t give in (though dammit I probably did all of that anyway now that my brain has a chance to catch up).

Instead I give him a half-hearted kick to the shin.

He winces slightly, rolls his eyes, and pulls out another mochi, at first offering it to me, then pulling out of my reach when I grab for it. He raises an eyebrow, expectantly, and I glare at his smug face for another moment or so before my mochi fixation breaks my resolve.

I release his sleeve, clench my fists at my side, and try my best to stare angrily into his eyes as he slides the mochi into my mouth. I grip it with my teeth as soon as I’m able and pull it from his grasp.

He’s giving me that look again, that infuriatingly fond and smug look that alternates between speeding up my heart or my blood pressure.

“Kenma cheat codes are hard to come by. Glad I stumbled upon that one.”

He’s...not wrong. Mochi has a curious way of piercing through all my defenses.

He hasn’t rediscovered my true kryptonite yet (I make sure Kuro’s never around when I’m going to be anywhere in the vicinity of apple pie), but I know once he does it’s all over.

I abruptly stop in my tracks, stunned by an vision so glorious it takes my breath: _Apple pie mochi._ Oh my _gods._ I think I know what I’m going to do with my life when I finally reach adulthood. Japan needs this. The _world_ needs this. But I need this most of all. For now, though, strawberry will have to do.

I break into a jog toward the bend in the path ahead where Kuro is waiting for me, and the distant sound of the crashing ocean fills my head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kenma's mochi flailing inspired by [this glorious kuroken comic](http://majiteenshi.tumblr.com/post/89428543866)


	4. Lone Claw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trails, treachery, and tribulation,
> 
> An unexpected visit home.
> 
> The start of all of our beginnings:
> 
> The lone claw of the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What even is tense? I clearly have no idea.
> 
> Music suggestion:  
> The Beach, 7am - Oxenfree Soundtrack  
> [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wkg8WhKzPVg)

I have always hated hiking.

I hate how my legs and feet get sore.

I hate the rocks and twigs that find their way into my shoes.

I hate the gnats and the mosquitos.

I hate the heat and the sweat that attracts them, making me feel tired and gross.

I hate the long looping trails.

I hate the ones that don’t loop even more, that just go there and back on the same dusty path.

And I hate Kuro for luring me here with his delicious strawberry mochi. 

He entices me further and further down these forest trails, shaking the bag along behind him when I start falling behind, letting me actually have a piece just before I reach my limit. He’s playing me _perfectly_ , and I can’t do a damned thing about it.

But all things have limits, and eventually Kuro’s bait runs empty. 

I’m savoring the last of the final piece of mochi, just starting to emerge from its wonderfully blissful haze. The world is delicious, and now we can turn back and go home.

But when I open my eyes, Kuro is not grinning. There is no trace of that earlier mirth in his eyes at all.

I’ve seen every one of Kuro’s serious faces. I’ve seen his resolved anticipation before a tough game, or hard test. I’ve witnessed his mournful and steeled visage just before he informs me of something terrible that’s happened to a family member, or friend.

This surpasses all of them.

Kuro’s look is...grave. There’s a weariness in his eyes beyond any I remember, from this or any recent lifetime, some kind of emptiness there I can’t understand.

“K..Kuro?”

An icy feeling is pooling in the pit of my stomach, and it’s not the mochi. 

“I know you don’t want to be here, Kenma,” he begins, taking a slow step toward me, “but there is a reason I brought you here. An important one. One I hoped I’d never have to inflict upon you.” 

_...and this is the part of the story where the woodsman reveals to Snow White that he was ordered to kill her, that he’s going to cut out her heart..._

It’s a stupid thought, but one I can’t seem to shake, especially as I look around me seeing nothing but trees and undergrowth, no signs, no paths...

_We’re not on a trail...how long has he been leading me off the trail?_

Fear tears through me like a spooked animal, a runaway. My mind is racing through possibilities, each more horrifying and implausible than the last...this is _Kuro_ for gods’ sake!

But Kuro isn’t even meeting my gaze as he steps forward again, towering over me, shadowing the light. I can feel pins and needles creeping up my hands and feet, and my vision seems to swim before me.

When he meets my gaze, I can see Kuro’s eyes widen, and he backs away. His hands are outstretched in a gesture of calming as he lowers himself carefully into a squat, making no sudden moves.

I become aware that my breathing is coming far too fast and shallow, that I’m backed up against a pine, knees bent as if to flee. My legs aren’t responding, despite how they quiver. 

“Easy...easy, Kenma...” It takes me a little time to realize he’s been repeating this for awhile.

A few more moments pass, and with Kuro’s soothing, placating words, I can feel the panic beginning to recede, reason regaining control. 

Kuro is no woodsman, no hunter. There is no evil queen out to get me.

_...no bandits with knives...no soldiers with guns...no bombers streaking through the air above..._

Kuro’s never harmed me, ever. Kuro’s only ever protected and sheltered me. The concern on his face is proof: no matter what face he showed before, _this_ is the face of my best friend. 

_There’s no betrayal here._

My breathing slows, heartbeat finding its normal rhythm. I’m no longer a skittish, terrified kitten. I slide my back down the trunk to join Kuro on the ground, and he deflates as the last of my attack passes. 

“Gods, I’m sorry, Kenma...I didn’t mean to frighten you, that just...didn’t come out the way I intended.”

“What _is_ this, Kuro? You lure me to the middle of some strange forest? Scare me with ominous words?” I pull my legs up to my chest, rest my forehead against them, observing Kuro through the gap between my knees. “I’ve never seen you look at me like that...”

He runs a hand through his bedhair, chews on his lip a moment.

“There’s something I brought you to witness. And I know this doesn’t make sense right now, but it’s something that might be hard for you to see, and it’s something that you need to see alone.”

I shake my head, bewildered.

“Kuro, I don’t understand...“

He crawls over to me, lifts a hand to cup my cheek, the way he always does when he’s trying to instill some sense of courage in the worst of times. His hand is warm, fingertips firm, but gentle on my skin.

“Kenma...do you trust me?”

_(“I’ll distract them while you run toward the river! They can’t go after both of us. Do you trust me, Kenma?”)_

_(“If your dad ever tries to raise a hand toward you again, I’ll punch his jaw off! Trust me!”)_

_(“You’re so brave, Kitten...braver than you’ll ever know...even if I can’t stay with you, we’ll see each other again, Kenma...trust me...)_

Lifetime after lifetime built upon Kuro’s strength, his heart, his trust...

“Yes...” 

He searches my eyes and nods slowly at what he finds there. 

“I want you to close your eyes and count to 100. Then, you’re going to go east...see that toppled tree leaning on that rock? Just under there and straight on for 5 minutes or so.”

“How will I know I’m in the right place?”

“You’ll know.”

“Will you be waiting there?”

He shakes his head. “Not there, but you should know where to go afterwards, and where to find me.”

“Kuro, that doesn’t make sense--“

“I know. Just trust me, Kitten. And if you somehow don’t know where to go, just stay there, and I’ll come back for you. And when we’re done here, and get back to the car, I’ll have something special waiting for you in the cooler. How’s that?”

I furrow my brow. The idea of playing hide-and-seek with Kuro in a weird forest doesn’t appeal to me. Kuro’s giving me a choice when he knows full well I take the easy routes (games excepted), and is even offering some kind of prize at the end. What’s the catch?

“How do you know I won’t just sit and wait for you anyway?”

The ghost of his earlier grim visage flashes across his face. He forces a smile.

“Well, if I mean anything to you, I hope you’ll indulge me.” And then, softer, more serious, “I trust you too, Kenma.”

_Oh._

“That’s not fair, Kuro,” I mumble, looking down so my bangs mask him from my view.

“Hmm?”

 _Evade, evade_...

“I said, ‘what if I get lost?’”

“And who always manages to find you whenever you get lost?”

“You do...” I answer reluctantly, raising my eyes.

The fond smile he wears this time is genuine. “I always know exactly where you are, Kitten. I’ll find you. Always.”

I look away and give him a half-hearted punch to his chest. “Don’t be embarrassing...”

He chuckles as he rises to his feet. “I’ll be waiting for you, Kitten...”

I hold back a whine of protest at the nickname...he’s been using it too often. And too effectively.

But Kuro is out of earshot anyway, slipping silently through the foliage and out of view.

 

“99...100.”

Shouyou would have yelped out “ready or not, here I come!”, but I’m not generally the yelling type. I’m not generally the count-out-loud type either, but when you’re lost and alone in the wilderness, sometimes your voice is the only semblance of companionship available. 

“At least until I find Kuro,” I explain to the greenery around me. The leaves rustle in agreement as I start off toward the fallen tree.

Theories and scenarios keep flashing through my head as I make my way forward, and I dismiss them as quick as they form. None of them stick, none of them make any sense.

_Something hard for me to see...something I need to witness alone..._

“Some secret forest lab where Kuro does terrible experiments?” I muse out loud. 

Kuro’s got the mad scientist hair down, but he’s struggling in bio and physics, so that’s out. He _could_ be in cahoots with Bokuto, that’s double-the mad-scientist hair, but _his_ marks are even worse.

“Maybe it’s a surprise party for me in the middle of the forest?” That sounds like far too much effort for Kuro, and my birthday is still a month off. Kuro isn’t absent-minded enough to get the date completely wrong like this, right? Well, that _would_ be one way to make sure it was a complete surprise--wait...

“Shouyou?”

 _Sunbeams, morning glories, a trace of cinnamon_ : _Shouyou’s natural scent._

For a moment it almost seems like this really _could_ be a surprise party, with Shouyou about to bound into view or hug-tackle me from behind.

But no...these woods are empty of people. No party hat or red hair in sight. I double-check around me just to be sure.

Ah, but there: on the edge of a meadow, vines of morning glories wrapping themselves up a nearby elm. _That’s_ what it is. I walk up to the large tree, breathe in the sweet aroma--

Shouyou’s fragrance still dances in the air, more intense than mere flowers. It’s as if he’s right there, in front of me, leading me forward

I take my first step into the meadow.

_(It took some moments for the warmth to register under the numb pads of my feet--)_

The sense of deja vu hits me full on, nearly overwhelming; so long ago, yet visited in my dreams only the night before.

I shuffle forward, disbelieving.

And yet flowers are blooming all around me, months out of season. Familiar birdsong trills through the air, accentuated by the occasional buzzing of hungry bees. A family of deer and their fawns on the far side of the meadow raise their heads lazily to note the new arrival, and I can hear occasional scampering in the grasses and flowers as small creatures continue on their way.

All around me is _life_ , and _spring_ , and _wonder_...the scent of sunshine and the memory of a young god’s laughter. 

Impossibly, undeniably, this is _our_ meadow, the first place on earth to be touched by the spirit of the Sun.

Here _,_ in this circle of wildflowers is where I first saw Shouyou, birds alighting on his bare arms and shoulders. 

I look up, toward the trees to my right. _There:_ Our first few games of chase and hide-and-seek, extending further into the shade of oaks and elms.

Some distant part of me knows I’m in some kind of shock, is telling me so, explaining that there are implications here I need to consider, something about Kuro, but it’s all muted noise, distant, and I push it away.

This place...the meadow, this entire forest...it’s as if some force preserved it nearly just as it was then, a precious and fond memory of an ancient and special time. It resonates with me...pulling me back...snippets of memory half-remembered blazing back vivid and strong.

I find my feet carrying me forward, across the meadow, into the trees, treading familiar paths. If this really is the forest of my youth, then there is a place I must visit first, before all others.

_Here._

My feet stop in the middle of the woods, and I squat down to touch the leaf-strewn earth with my fingers, brush the snowdrops which grow here, basking in the sunbeams. The moss and flowers against my skin are so gentle, so soft...

There is nothing outwardly special about this place, aside from the sense of peace, and the glittering of sunlight through the forest canopy. Still, I would know this place anywhere, even though the signs of disturbance in the ground have been gone for millennia, even if the grave marker stone Shouyou had placed had long since broken down to pebbles.

“Hello Mom...”

I’ve had so many different mothers, across my lifetimes. Some loving. Some cold. Some even abusive. But most of my mothers wanted me, and cared for me, and found a place in their hearts for a strange, quiet, cat-eyed child. 

But here, under the earth in this silent place, lay my first mother, the one who loved me and raised me when the shape of my body reflected the shape of my soul. 

“It’s me...it’s Kit.”

Not a name, not really...I had been too young then for a real name, my survival too uncertain, the tiniest and only survivor of the litter. But it was the nickname she used, and she always purred when she said it.

“You probably don’t recognize me like this. So many things have happened. So much time has passed. I’ve been chasing the Sun, Mom...”

And there, on the forest floor, I let my tale pour from me...meeting Shouyou in the meadow, meeting the others, our stepping between time, the lifetimes we’ve had...

It feels like days had passed, when I finally finish, yet the sun still shines down, as if it is always noon time here. 

“I never thought I’d get the chance to be here again...to talk to you like this. I just want you to know I’m okay, Mom. I’ve never forgotten you.”

There are other words inside, twisted up pain and regret held for so very long. So little time for the two of us, cut off far too early. But now, in this place, a strange peace settles upon me. Some long-held tension releasing, and I let my breath out slow and easy.

“I need to go now, Mom...I love you...”

A few more moments of quiet, and my fingers leave the earth as I stand, knowing full well that I both am and am not the same creature as used to live in these woods. I wonder if the woods themselves recognize me at all, or see me as some strangely familiar intruder.

I bear an eternal name, now, one I only held half of when I darted and danced through these trees long ago. Shouyou had graced me that first half in our meadow behind me. The final piece of me was gifted in another place, and I know now where this path will end, though there are some places I wish to visit along the way.

I find my way to the ancient and sprawling oak, and even though it doesn’t seem as towering and menacing as it did when I was young, somehow I know it’s the same one. 

 

_(Shouyou’s brilliant smile and gentle presence are the only things keeping me from bolting._

_“These are friends of mine, Kenma, they won’t hurt you!”_

_Easy for him to say. Shouyou was never nearly snatched by talons such as these when he was young. And those_ eyes _..._

_The Great Owl, the Horned Guardian Spirit of the Ancient Wood, Winged Herald of Triumph and Victory, looms above me, poised and silver and ghostly, eyes aglow with energies and knowledge beyond comprehension. The longer I stare into those golden eyes, the smaller and more lost I feel. I find myself cowering back even further, slowly seeking retreat–_

_“Don’t let him intimidate you, he’s really just a big goofball once you get to know him.”_

_“Akaasaaashi!” The Great Owl fluffs out indignantly, turning to screech at his smaller, shadowed companion. “You’re RUINING my first impression!”_

_“You do that quite enough on your own, Bokuto-san.”_

_“When did we last have a visitor? WHEN? I PRACTICED for this!”_

_Is he...whining?_

_“Bokuto-san, mysterious and foreboding doesn’t fit you. We’ve been over this...”_

_I gawk as the Great and Amazing Owl of the Ancient Wood argues and pouts like a child, and ultimately shuffles off to sulk in his hollow with his back to us, refusing to speak._

_“You’ll have to forgive him, he gets overly excited about these things....”)_

 

Even back then, shadowed and silver-eyed, Akaashi had a gentleness to him that set me at ease. It hadn’t been long after that I was bantering and joking with two of the most ancient and powerful beings in the forest.

Those were wondrous days with such gentle memories: Curled up with the two of them in our new home, Bokuto hooting softly in his sleep, fluffing up every so often for no real reason, Akaashi gently preening my fur.

We were family, back then. And so will we ever be, lifetime after lifetime to follow, no matter what form we take.

I’m half-tempted to reach into the space within to see if I’ll still find some of their feathers, and then decide against it. Surely some other creature has taken residence, and it is not my place to intrude.

I make my way onward, marveling at these familiar paths.

There, ahead: The tree I once scrambled up and sheltered in to escape an overly-curious white snow leopard, and his much smaller companion.

 

( _“Lev! Leave him alone, can’t you see you’re scaring him?”_

_“But Yaku-san, I was just saying hello!”)_

 

I roll my eyes. Some things never change.

But...some things do. Some things did.

The forest gives way to sandstone cliffs, overlooking the crash and sigh of waves pounding proud and powerful against the surf, the heartbeat of a blue god...

 

_(“Oh...” Shouyou gasps beside me, eyes widening._

_I crouch low at his sandaled heels, peer over the cliff edge, prepared to intercept any threat._

_And from the receding tide and the foam, a figure pulls Himself from the waters to the sandy shore. Here, upon this stretch on beach, He takes a single step: the first footprint of the Oceans incarnate._

_Encircling His raven hair swirls a halo of waves (crashing, flowing, receding, crashing once more), and His eyes hold the blue of unfathomable depths._

_When I can breathe again, fighting through the force of His presence, He has not yet moved a muscle._

_He stares at Shouyou, reverence and awe undisguised and open across His face. Shouyou’s eyes are even wider, a strange flush coloring his cheeks._

_“...It’s really you...” Though it’s ever so faint, there is a longing and gentle familiarity within Shouyou’s whisper._

_And perhaps it was merely a moment, this fated meeting, staring back and forth between two captivated gods, but in that stretched out fragment of eternity, I could feel my heart crying out, somehow knowing I was being left behind...)_

 

My sixth sense has ever been so keen. 

I scrunch up my nose. Too many memories of _him_ from this beach. 

I keep walking the cliffs bordering the shore. Even the heather growing here is the same as it was then, fragrant, a sweet contrast to the salty ocean tang.

The unseen path beneath me curves away from the beach, beckons me back into the forest, but I can’t help taking one last glimpse behind.

 

_(It’s long after sunset when I find them further along the shore, Shouyou and this ‘Kageyama’. They’re tossing something round and white and shining back and forth between them, its light shifting the shadows strangely upon the sand as it arcs through the air._

_For the moment, the swirling, crashing crown is nowhere to be seen._

_“Like...this...right?” He moves so awkwardly, this strange ocean god, as he tries his best to imitate the way Shouyou bends his legs and receives._

_“Yeah! But this time, toss it! Toward me, but up! And I’ll spike it!”_

_And with an ease and grace that almost seems to confuse him, the spirit of the oceans tosses the gleaming orb skyward._

_Shouyou is dashing even before the toss leaves his companion’s fingers, and in a split second he’s airborne, nearly flying, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth, wind in his hair and hand raised back as if to strike--_

_In mid-air, a tall figure blinks into being, eyes flashing white fire, one arm catching and cradling the glowing ball, while with the other he grabs Shouyou’s face and drives him, squawking, down into the sand._

_This newcomer’s hair is nearly the color of sand itself, in the ethereal light, and though he wears some kind of odd device around his eyes, his irritation is unobscured._

_“Even knowing this was coming, I had ALMOST convinced myself that you couldn’t POSSIBLY be this much of an idiot from the very beginning. Not even the basic politeness to ask permission. Truly, you amaze.”_

_The disdain rolling off of him is almost a physical thing, like waves of heat, distorting the stars behind him, seeming to converge, seeming to dance..._

_I blink and shake my head, suddenly dizzy. When I look back up, where there was once haze, yet another figure has materialized upon the beach...I can see stars glistening within him, shining, connected, beneath the skin and cloth and his eyes. His freckled face frowns with concern as he assists Shouyou in pulling his head from the sand._

_“You don’t need to help him, you know how resilient that shrimp is,” grumbles the blond boy, not even looking at the scene behind him as he raises the bright sphere into the air, measuring its position._

_The freckled, sparkling boy grins back with a light “sorry Tsukki!” though he finishes helping Shouyou to his feet anyway, looking almost apologetic._

_Shouyou spits sand from his mouth and starts ruffling it from his hair. “If I HAD asked, you would have just said no!”_

_“Of COURSE I’d have said no! Boundaries, Hinata!” the tall boy gestures in exasperation. “While YOU might conceivably be a volleyball in disguise, I assure you, I_ _am NOT.”_

_And with a disgusted sigh ‘Tsukki’ turns away, takes a few final seconds to consider position, and places the moon back to its rightful place in the night sky._

_And despite the yelling, despite these strange newcomers, Shouyou and Kageyama can’t seem to take their eyes off each other. The fascination in their eyes outshines even the restored moon...)_

 

I’m running through the forest now. Memories of _him_ chasing me. Old anger burns within my chest...completely unjustified, I know, but then, when I was so young and ignorant, it was righteous.

Shouyou and I had each other! What need did we have of a stranger butting in! What did _he_ know of the bonds between us? What right did _he_ have to pull Shouyou away?

I had shadowed them as Shouyou showed them _our_ special places in the forest...the stone ring where the wind blows music through the standing rocks...the hidden waterfalls and cool summer pools...

I was so young, then, knowing nothing of the tragedy of Shouyou’s love. But even if I had, in that moment it would have made no difference.

 

_(Something about the glance they both share...the grace of their movements as skin slides against skin, as fingertips trace with reverence..._

_Something within me curls, and my body is in motion before I realize my intent, a young, desperate growl caught in my throat as I leap!_

_“YOU CAN’T HAVE HIM!”_

_I am dangling in the air, claws and teeth sunk deep into the ocean god’s wrist._

_“I FOUND HIM FIRST! I FOUND HIM FIRST!”_

_But gods don’t bleed. They don’t feel pain. That much is clear, seeing only puzzlement in Kageyama’s eyes as he lifts his arm to examine this strange black kitten clinging to him._

_His expression only makes me more angry, but then I turn my eyes to Shouyou and it all collapses. That...look. That look he gives Kageyama. Apologetic. He-doesn’t-know-any-better. In one look, it’s as if he sees me as a petulant child._

_And maybe that’s what I am. And maybe what’s between them is something that I can’t really understand right now, something beyond the realm of children and kits, but even so, that look cuts deep into me._

_I release my grip and flee, scampering into the forest, knowing now that even if I did find Shouyou first, that such a thing didn’t count in this strange, unfair world._

_I had thought before, on that beach, that I was losing Shouyou, but tonight I somehow knew that he was lost to me even from the very beginning.)_

 

The forest is no solace. There was no solace, once Kageyama stepped onto that beach and changed everything. But then, this really isn’t about running away, if I’m honest with myself. 

This is about closure. This is about facing something here, in my past. 

This is something I can’t run from.

I slow to a stop. I close my eyes, take a deep breath...hold it...just like Kuro taught me...slow, easy breaths. Feel my pulse calm.

_Okay._

I open my eyes.

I know where I am now. I know where my legs were carrying me. I know where I have to go. 

Not far now, to the center of this. Not far, until our beginning.

The clearing ahead opens up, and memories open in turn.

 

* * *

 

 

(It’s as if I blink there’s suddenly more of them.

They’ve been arriving all evening. Human-looking, most of them. Radiating, in some cases. 

Some glowed softly, like the ash-haired boy who arrived early and greeted me with a soft pet, leaving the sent of clean summer winds in his wake (‘we setters have to stick together!’ he said, whatever that meant). Others, you just felt power crackling around them, like the expectant pause before a lightning strike. 

Some felt calm and solid, stable as rock, comforting. While others brought the peace of the woods with them, fireflies flickering in long black hair.

The human-looking ones didn’t bother me much, laughing and talking among themselves, and it was easy to find a position across the clearing to observe them in peace.

At least, that was the intent.

“KENMA-SAN! KENMA-SAN!” 

_Ohgodsno._

The grey snow leopard is bounding his way across the clearing, teeth bared in an idiotic grin, tripping over the occasional root, eyes fixed on me. 

My hackles rise and tense my legs to flee once more _(how does he keep finding me?)_ , but a light-brown blur streaks in from the side and slams into the great grey cat, bowling him over end over end.

“Leave him alone, Lev! You’ll meet him later, not now. This isn’t the time.”

With a quick “Sorry, Kenma!” the small brown cat bites and tugs the scruff of his larger stunned companion and drags him, slowly, patiently, toward the other side of the clearing.

I lower myself back down, still confused why they know my name. I turn my gaze back toward the others.

The feel of fingers combing through the fur of my neck makes me jump, but it’s only Shouyou, folding up his legs to sit on the rock beside me. 

Which wouldn’t be unusual...except I can also see Shouyou on the other side of the clearing, holding onto the young sea god’s arm, laughing as he converses with two other companions.

I peer up at my Shouyou questioningly.

“Just a small god trick...” he chuckles. “You’ve been quiet all evening, Kenma. Everything okay?”

Usually I’d remain quiet, or make up excuses. But this...whatever this is between them, isn’t usual. It’s strange, and I don’t understand it. Watching them, these two gods and total strangers, laughing with each other, snuggling with each other, even fighting with each other, tightens up painfully in my chest.

And so when Shouyou asks if everything’s okay, I can’t hold that frustration back anymore.

“What do you even see in him!” I yowl, “You just met, but he’s all over you and you just let him in so close! You fight all the time! Shouyou, you’re bright, brilliant...you laugh, smile...everyone loves you.” 

That last part comes out more quiet, perhaps the closest I’ll get to admitting how I feel...but I’m not done yet.  

“But he’s different! He doesn’t smile – it’s true, you can’t call what he does smiling – He doesn’t fit in with the others. It’s like he wants to be a part, but doesn’t know how. He’s awkward. He’s – what is it that you call him when you’re yelling? – a total dork!”

I don’t know what the word means, but Shouyou’s always angry and frustrated with the strange blue-eyed god whenever he calls him that, so it seems appropriate.

“Yeah, he really is, isn’t he?” The gaze, the words, and the sigh following them are full of inexplicable fondness. “The dumbest, dorkiest blueberry.”

Shouyou’s eyes are soft, loving. He glances toward me briefly, then double-takes, smushing my head with his hand.

“Don’t make faces.”

I paw at his hand in frustration until he relents.

“It’s just..confusing.” I rest my chin on my paws, defeated. “You just met him...”

“Ohhhh...that.” Shouyou chuckles, scratching at the back of his head. “Well, this is our first time meeting, but time works...differently, for us.” 

He leans back, laying down on the cooling granite, hands cushioning the back of his head. He watches the shy, early stars emerge in the twilight, contemplating.

“When one of us is born--a god, that is--we know...everything that is to come, for us.”

His voice is different, as he speaks. His words slower, measured. This isn’t the Shouyou I know, young and playful. It’s a different part of him...far more ancient, far more tired...

He reaches upward with his hand, though I don’t know if it’s to contemplate his own form, or to reach for the stars beyond.

“We know all that we are, all that we will be, all the others of our kind we will ever meet, all that we will do. All the way to our end. We know our place, in all that is. More than anyone.”

He gestures across the clearing, toward his other self, toward the rest of this gathering of gods and spirits, shining in the night.

“So even if this is our first time meeting, none of us are strangers. We’ve always known each other, always known how our stories are woven together, both in this lifetime, and in all those we will make for ourselves. Well, for most of us, at least...”

Something in his earlier words chills me. “What do you mean ‘to your end’? Gods don’t die, Shouyou...”

His hand keeps stroking my fur, and when he doesn’t respond, I glance up. His smile is lopsided, fond, but even I can tell there’s pain masked beneath.

“Nothing lasts forever, Kenma. The winds and the waters and the earth will last a very long time, but not forever. The heart of me will shine out for years beyond counting. But one day, that shine will fade, and so will I. It’s the way of things...all gods die. All gods...except one.”

It’s not hard to figure out which one he means.

“But you said even the waters will end...”

“These waters, yes. But there are oceans beneath the oceans, Kenma. Seas vast beyond what you can imagine. Deeper, more expansive...we swim through some streams even now, ever and always moving forward. The seas and tides Tobio is heir to are ever flowing. They have always been...and they will always be. Long after I’ve flickered out, when stars themselves are but a memory, he will remain. Sleeping, perhaps...dreaming.”

A sad smile touches his lips. 

“Maybe dreaming of me, and all of us, of the brief time we shared – will share.”

I can’t understand all he’s saying...there’s a vastness in his words that chills me. The jealousy I felt, the petulant anger I’ve been nursing throughout these last few days, dissolves, giving way to an ache deep in my chest.

“But...but that’s horrible! How can he stand knowing that?”

Shouyou’s smile is lopsided, bittersweet.

“He doesn’t.”

“He...doesn’t?”

“He doesn’t remember everything that is to come the way all the rest of us do. I think he locked it all away from himself, long ago, in the beginning.”

“So when he met you at the beach...”

“For him, that was a true, unexpected first meeting. He felt me, here, upon his shores. The pull he feels toward me, the attraction...that’s Tobio’s love alone. From this beginning...to the lifetimes we will share together...to the very end, where he’s holding me in his arms...he doesn’t love as a god does, remembering the future, pulling from his predestined path. He loves with his entire being in every moment. He loves with a mortal heart. And I love him for that.”

It breaks me. It breaks me to know this. 

“You were a surprise to me too, you know...”

I look up, confused.

“We shine out to each other in our memories, gods and the great spirits. Especially this time, this place, so many of us gathered here, and what we’re preparing to do...it’s blinding.”

He smiles down at me. “I never saw you here, Kenma. I never knew I first met you here, like this.” He laughs, suddenly. “And I’m usually the one who startles you time after time, showing up out of nowhere...”

I stare up at Shouyou, wide-eyed. Pieces are coming together for me.

“You’re going somewhere, aren’t you? All of you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we are. Tonight.”

“Far away?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not coming back, are you?”

“No, probably not.”

“Is it scary, where you’re going?”

“It’s everything, Kenma. Scary, wonderful, horrifying, delightful, lovely, terrible...”

I think about that a moment. I make up my mind.

“Let me go with you.”

He doesn’t reply, just looks at me with sad eyes.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow, Shouyou...”

“It will be hard, Kenma. Some lifetimes will be painful, cruel...”

“I’m coming with you, aren’t I?”

He says nothing.

“You remember me, don’t you? Where you’re going? In what’s to come? I’m there too, aren’t I?”

He sighs, beside me, slow. “Yes. You’re there too. But I won’t know you, in the lifetimes to come. And it may be years before we meet again. In some lifetimes, we won’t even get that chance.”

“And you and Kageyama?”

“We won’t know each other either. Not at first,” 

His smile goes soft again, and I know who his eyes are fixed upon. “But finding each other, again and again, falling into that fascination, that mortal love over and over...that’s what this is all about.”

The warmth of his gaze turns to me now. “We’ll find each other too, Kenma.”

“And...we’ll be friends?” I can hardly ask for more than that tonight, though my hearts still yearns for it.

“We’ll be the best of friends! We’ll text each other all the time, and we’ll eat meat buns together and go see Tokyo Tower when we’re not playing against each other, and you’ll even toss to me, even when you’d normally feel too tired...”

Shouyou continues to ramble off, and though I can’t understand a thing he’s saying, it’s enough to know I can chase behind him, that he’ll never leave me behind. That’s a warmth I can bask within.

“But you’ll need more than me, Kenma. I won’t always be there for you, and the world to come can be a scary and dangerous place.”

I remember that sliver of time between when I lost my mother and when I found Shouyou, and shiver inside. To be alone like that again...

“You’ll need someone to watch over you. A companion, a guardian,” Shouyou scoops me up in his arms, begins walking across the now-deserted clearing. “A friend.”

“Where are all the others?”

“They’ve already gone on ahead. Just a few are left now. They’re waiting for us.”

The trees part ahead and the bluff comes into view. The moon is a slivered crescent, not enough to illuminate, but my night-eyes take in everything:

Kageyama in the distance, standing next to the sea pine where the cliff extends far out over the ocean, talking with Shouyou’s real self, their hands clasped.

The sandy-haired ‘Tsukki’ from the beach, and his smiling freckled companion, stars still twinkling, connected, somehow visible beneath his skin.

Bokuto and Akaashi, now bearing human forms, but Bokuto’s horned, silvered hair gives him away immediately, as does the gentleness in his mate’s eyes.

And several cats of varying shapes and sizes (and one seemingly misplaced canine), all gathered together, eyes upon me. 

The snow leopard is sprawled out beside them, tongue sticking out, still unconscious.

The smallest one, the light-brown one who knew my name, comes forward; his form shifts black, his eyes burning neon, and with a final shimmer, a boy with short hair walks the final steps toward me.

“I’ll let Nekoma take care of this part, but I’ll come back for you soon!” Shouyou entrusts me to Bokuto’s hands, and with a smile, his image fades like a mirage.

I blink up at the brown-haired boy. He’s smaller than most of the others, though still taller than Shouyou. His eyes are kind, like he already knows me as a friend. I think back...what did the snow leopard call him?

“Yaku-san?”

He smiles back, warm and genuine. “You remembered!” He gestures towards the rest behind him, “you’ll meet the others in time. We’re all here to support you...but also to welcome the arrival of one more...”

An amused, wizened chuckling draws my attention as one of the larger, white-whiskered cats steps forth, and with a similar shadowed shifting, a much older man steps next to Yaku, patting the boy on the shoulder, his smile wide. 

From His very first step His presence tugs at me...not nearly as forceful as Shouyou or some of the other great gods, yet I know Him. I can see His eyes watching me as I try to figure out whether to bow or prostrate myself or lay down and show my stomach, but he makes a waving, dismissive motion with his hand.

“None of that, now. None of my grandsons need bow to me, not even the ones I choose to adopt,” His hand ruffles the fur on my head, and with a single finger he closes my gaping jaw. “Or those I choose to make.”

I’m having trouble processing this. And swallowing. And stopping myself from staring. I’ve been in the company of gods for months now, this shouldn’t come as any kind of surprise or shock, but still--

“This may sting a bit, Kenma, but it won’t last long. Jii-san?” Yaku asks, and the Great Nekomata-sama nods to continue.

I feel Yaku trace a finger slowly from the top of my head down my back; I hold back a yowl at the ripping sensation in the wake of his touch, grimacing as something is torn from me.

“Ah, now there’s the pudding-head we all know and love,” Bokuto remarks cryptically as Yaku steps back, an inky darkness swirling in his hand.

Nekomata-sama takes the black whirl from Yaku, his smile fond as he molds it, over and over. Yaku sets a hand on his grandfather’s shoulder and his eyes spark. The cats behind him likewise raise themselves to attention, eyes blazing lightning as they shift black, and something crackles between the old man’s hands as his own eyes ignite.

The electricity in the air fades and Nekomata-sama holds out his hands, admiring his work. Between a god’s hands, a dusky creature stirs, sits up on its haunches. It’s even bigger than I am...

 _“Grandson...by your Black Tail I name you: Kuroo...”_ Nekomata-sama intones, his voice mighty, commanding. Proud. Two burning neon eyes open in the darkness.

“K-Kuro...” I echo, entranced, then blink, confused, as snorts and chuckles break the tension. Nekomata-sama laughs harder than them all.

“So it is, little Kenma, so it is,” he reassures me as he wipes a tear from his eye. “Tsukishima, if you would?”

The sandy-headed boy frowns at the shadowed creature in distaste. “It would save me so much grief if I stopped this right here...”

“Tsukki!” the star-filled youth hisses as he plants his elbow into his friend’s side.

Tsukishima reels back, clearing his throat as he regains his composure. He rests a hand on the creature’s head, adjusts the device around his eyes, and white fire blazes across the lenses.

His voice echoes deep in the night, reverberating: _“By the Iron-black of the darkened moon I bind you to me and name you: Tetsurou.”_

The radiant yellow eyes blink slowly, in acknowledgement, perhaps. 

“Though far too much ‘cheer’ for my tastes. Yamaguchi?” 

Tsukishima steps aside as his freckled companion skips forward, grinning, and from his chest, from his heart, he draws a mote of light which flares bright against the darkness: a star dancing between his fingertips. With a small gesture and a sharp crack, one pinprick of light becomes two. 

One, he presses against against this new creature, this ‘Kuroo’, embedding it over its heart. He turns to me, and presses the other star into my forehead where it burns for an instant, pain gone and past before I realize it was there in the first place. 

“Binary stars...so you’ll never lose your way to each other!” His eyes shine with mirth and affection, so different from his taller ‘Tsukki’.

“And there we have it, the full pantheon,” Nekomata-sama lets out a delighted, hearty laugh, and entrusts Kuroo to his grandson’s hands before turning away.

“Come on, Captain, we’re going first,” Yaku notifies the dark creature, tucking it in the crook of his arm, then shouts a quick “See you soon, Kenma!” over his shoulder. With that, he walks away, dragging the unconscious leopard by the scruff of the neck behind him.

Together, the god of cats and his grandchildren saunter toward the ocean cliff, tails swaying contentedly. 

The rest of us follow behind.

I peer up at Akaashi, and my confusion must have been easy to read.

“Names...True Names, are necessary for what we’re about to do, slipping through time. For mortals, two are needed, like coordinates, granted by a god or greater spirit, along with a binding to one of us to pull and anchor them in our travel. A binding through the phases of the moon is the most fluid, generally. Ironically.” 

Tsukishima scoffs at that.

But I only have one name...

“Guess it’s my turn now, huh?” Shouyou is bent down, beaming, suddenly at my side, though I never heard him approach. He shoots a glance behind him. “Tsukishima?”

“It’s your light reflected, Hinata, do what you will with it.”

Shouyou nods, and presses his forehead against mine, petting me gently. 

“Kenma,” he says, voice gentle, serious, for my ears only, “yours will be the harder path. You won’t reset like we will, each time. Memory will be a burden for you. One that will only grow, with time. If it should ever become too much for you to bear...if you ever wish to go free from me and lay this burden to rest...you can do so. But think hard and long first...there are no second chances, if you cut free from your name.”

And Shouyou whispers to me. He whispers to me words of unbinding. Words of ending. I recoil, eyes wide.

“You might never say these words, Kenma. I honestly do not know if you will ever use them. Understand, I only give you this so you will never feel trapped, by me, by this cycle we begin tonight. You came to me freely, so I offer you that same freedom, should you ever wish to find your own peace.”

I headbutt him back gently and nod, vowing inside that those words will never find their way to my tongue. Shouyou steps back, eyes shut, and he takes a long breath, centering himself. 

When He opens his eyes, they are glowing, first like fireflies, and then the moon, growing ever brighter. He draws His aspect upon Him, haloed with the radiance of the sun, the light and heat seeming to stream around Him, backlit: a childlike star, winged and blazing in the night. His hand reaches to cup my cheek, and His voice echoes within me:

_“I name you Kozume; by your name and nature and the Lone Claw of the slivered moon I bind you to Me. You were My first friend in this strange and beautiful world. In all the lives before us I will hold you dear to me, and I will be forever honored if you will stay by My side...to help Me when I fall, lead Me should I stray, and together we will remind each other that we’re never alone.”_

I feel something sear into me, hot but without pain, and the world seems to twist for an instant before snapping back into place. Something within feels...fuller.

When the disorientation fades I find myself in Shouyou’s arms as we approach the bluff; the space ahead, in front of the sea pine, seems to ripple and glow strangely. There’s no sign of the others, only Kageyama remains. 

“This is it, Kenma. A new beginning. The start of every new beginning.”

There’s so much I want to say...I want to voice my fear, of the unknown, of the terrible things Shouyou described. I want to tell him I’ll be brave, and face anything if it comes between us. I want to tell Shouyou I love him, that I’ll keep chasing after him, no matter how long it takes. 

“I’m ready.” Maybe in another lifetime, I’ll have such courage...

Shouyou steps forward, and time itself ripples before me--)

 

* * *

 

I blink as memory releases its hold. 

The sea surges and sighs upon the rocky cliffs below. The wind whirls around me, drawing a faint misting of sea spray through my hair.

And Kuro, seated before me at the base of the lone sea pine, raises his eyes to meet mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few pieces of awesome art I used as inspiration:
> 
> For constellation-Yamaguchi  
> [Dark Side of the Moon by len-yan](https://len-yan.deviantart.com/art/dark-side-of-the-moon-396074272)  
> [This](http://yankasmiles.tumblr.com/post/132766881916) amazing star/freckles piece by Yanka.
> 
> Lev  
> [This](http://honesttopaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/2-lynx-and-cat-mom.jpg) and [this](http://i3.mirror.co.uk/incoming/article6338696.ece/ALTERNATES/s810/PAY-Kitten-and-lynx.jpg) are both Lev (Yaku as the striped orange cat) and you can't tell me otherwise (even though it's a lynx, here).  
> Also props to tinyriverstory's [nekoma](http://tinyriverstory.tumblr.com/post/119335914612/theyre-both-his-favorite-3) [kitties](http://tinyriverstory.tumblr.com/post/118945104202/i-fell-into-my-own-trap-sorry-ill-probably-be) [series](http://tinyriverstory.tumblr.com/post/119936499397/its-hard-to-keep-your-phone-above-your-face-when)!  
> Also, mookie's [crazy](http://mookie000.tumblr.com/post/124204834197) [catboy](http://mookie000.tumblr.com/post/125196459812/from-a-talk-with-na) [Lev](http://mookie000.tumblr.com/post/136021676202/winter-prints-i-made-for-the-hq-cafe-a-while-ago) is pretty much headcanon for me.
> 
> Spiking the moon  
> [A piece by umani-ko](http://umani-ko.tumblr.com/post/116861167229/stars-in-their-eyes) that first got me thinking about this  
> [Amazing piece by Lanthanoid](http://lanthanoid.tumblr.com/post/144828181185/my-two-sons-print-available-now)


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